Don't Touch Our Archer
by HeyAssButtImBatman
Summary: The team is fiercely protective of Clint, and no one learns this harder than the two idiot mutants who decided to torture him.


Clint grunted as the fist slammed into his stomach again. He was sure that he had major internal bleeding by now, if the pain was anything to go by. But he didn't show how much he was hurting, instead choosing to smirk at their captor and snark "It that all you got?"

That earned him a kick, and he wisely held his tongue this time. He locked eyes with Natasha, who was chained to the opposite wall along with the rest of the team, minus Bruce and Thor, and tried to smile reassuringly. It didn't work.

She struggled just as fiercely, spitting every curse she knew, and Tony and Steve were doing the same. Clint knew how protective they all were of him, what with him being the only human on the team. I mean, sure Tony and Steve were human, but they had armor and serum. And Natasha, well, she was trained for this kind of thing.

Not that he couldn't handle torture as well as the next agent, but her _special_ training had left her better suited for fighting right in the thick of things while Clint performed better from a distance. So it was no surprise that the team was angry that their targets, who had somehow known they were coming, had chosen to interrogate Clint.

"I will ask one more time," the man said, getting in close to Clint. "What have you done with the weapon?"

Clint rolled his eyes. This torture thing had gotten old after the first half-hour, and downright ancient by the second full hour. He was tired, sore, hungry and he had really wanted to catch that rerun of Avatar, but thanks to Chuckles over here, he'd have to rent it. Great.

"Okay, listen up, Chuckles," he said, liking the nickname he had given the man. "I have no idea where the weapon is, we're the Avengers and when we get out of here you'll be begging for death, and see my friend over there?" he nodded towards Natasha, who had been duct taped across the mouth to keep her quiet.

"She has literally ripped off a man's arm before because he spat on me. So if I were you, I'd let us go and make this at least a little easier on yourself."

Chuckles laughed and grabbed Clint's hair, slamming his head back into the wall of the dungeon (yes, they were in a dungeon, as if the whole thing weren't cliche enough), making his vision cloud for a moment.

"You are in no position to be making demands," he growled, getting in close to Clint's face. He closed his eyes and sniffed his neck, making a small growl of pleasure as he did so. The action did not go unnoticed by the others, who were practically foaming at the mouth to get free.

"That was uncalled for," Clint said, glaring. Chuckles laughed again.

"You are a feisty one. I like that. It does not matter if you will not talk now, there are... _other_ ways to make someone scream." He licked his lips and Clint shivered in disgust.

"So not happening," he said. Chuckles made a grab for his hair again, but Clint backed up, silently willing Chuckles to take the bait. He did. The man took one step forward for every step Clint took back, until the archer found himself backed against the wall.

He smirked and Chuckles frowned. Before he could do anything, Clint had jumped up and pushed off of the wall, both feet hitting Chuckles square in the gut. He doubled over and Clint kicked him in the face, hard. He went down but wasn't out, so Clint reached for a pressure point on the neck that would knock him out quickly.

Once he was sure that the man was out for a while, he headed over to the rest of his team. He didn't waste time with small talk or relieving Nat of her duct tape. He went right for her hair, pulling out the two bobby pins she always kept there for situations like this.

He made quick work of the lock on the first chain, releasing Nat's left arm, but before he could continue, his spine began to tingle, a sure sign someone was watching him. He paused and looked around, seeing Chuckles still on the floor.

"Nat?" he asked a question with one word, and as usual, she understood. He ripped off the duct tape, not apologizing for the pain she could undoubtedly deal with.

"There's someone here," she confirmed, and Clint reached for the knife he kept in a hidden sheath in his boot. A sudden pain knocked him down before he could reach it, and blood welled at the corner of his lip. He wiped it away and attempted to stand, only to find himself pinned by something heavy.

"Not so tough now, are ya?" asked a voice right by his ear, and Clint froze. He looked at his team and saw that they wore similar expressions of shock.

"What the hell?" Tony spit out. The weight from Clint's chest vanished and he scrambled to his feet, knife in hand. His eyes widened when he saw the roll of duct tape lift itself off of the floor and move towards Tony, a piece unravelling as it did so.

Soon, all three members of his team were duct taped, and Clint had a pretty good idea of what he was dealing with. He threw the knife as hard as he could towards where he knew his target was and grinned when it stuck into something and he heard a scream.

There was a rippling movement around where the knife floated in midair, then limbs began to fill the once-empty space. A man as big as Chuckles and looking almost exactly the same appeared, clutching a knife sticking out of his arm.

He growled and yanked it out, throwing it aside and letting the blood run freely over his arm. Clint looked at Chuckles, then at the new guy, then back at Chuckles.

"Are you two brothers?" he asked, dodging a punch. His whole body screamed with protest at the movement, but he ignored the pain. "You know what, I'm gonna call you Chuckles Two in honour of your fallen comrade."

He lowered his head in mock sympathy and narrowly avoided getting kicked in the face. At an insistent grunt from Nat, Clint stopped playing around and focused on the fight. This one would be tough. Chuckles Two was still coming, despite how much he was bleeding, and Clint knew it would be too much to ask that he bled to death before he had to strain his injured body too much.

He dodged and ducked and avoided, and even managed to get in a few good hits that would have killed lesser men, but it never seemed to be enough. He wished he had his bow, despite how ineffective it would have been in the tight space.

He cried out as Chuckles Two got in a good kick to his ribs, sending him sprawling across the floor. He curled protectively around himself for a moment before sucking in a sharp breath and rising shakily to his feet. He watched with bated breath as Chuckles Two came closer, knowing that this time he wouldn't be able to dodge.

"You're pretty," Chuckles Two said. Clint rolled his eyes and replied in the most childish way possible.

"You're not," he shot back, smirking as the other man growled. He came close and Clint saw an opening, he just needed C.T. to get a little closer first. He wrinkled his nose as he allowed C.T. to invade his personal bubble.

"I'm gonna make you beg," he purred into Clint's ear, and the archer shuddered again.

"You wish," he snarled as he brought his leg up, hard. C.T. gasped and squeaked in pain as his hands went automatically to his crotch. Clint smirked in satisfaction and slammed his boot into C.T.'s temple, knocking him out.

Not willing to take any chances, he uses the duct tape to tie up both of the Chuckles. Taking deep breaths to keep the pain at bay, he released the other Avengers and watched with amusement as they proceeded to angrily beat up the two unconscious bodies on the floor.

"I mean, I knew you guys were protective, but they're already out," he said. "There's no reason for you to kill them."

"Yes there is," three voices said in unison and Clint sighs.

"They," Nat snarls, pointing at the bloody mess on the floor, "tortured you. And they were being sexual towards you. No one gets to be sexual towards you if you don't want them to! And _no one_ touches our archer. NO ONE!" Tony and Steve nodded vehemently beside her.

"Riiight," he drawled. "So, I'm gonna go back to the quinjet and get some medical attention. Bring those two when you're done, I guess." He gave them a wave and turned towards the door. He put his hand on the knob and stopped, swaying.

He groaned, gaining the attention of the other Avengers and tried to keep himself steady, but his injuries had taken their toll and he felt himself slip into unconsciousness.

...oO()Oo…

Clint's eyes shot open, darting around and taking in his surroundings. He was in a hospital room on the Helicarrier, based on the sounds emanating from the walls. The rest of the team, Thor and Bruce included, were lounged around the room, sleeping.

He raised his eyebrows and nudged Natasha, who had her head resting on the bed. She woke up instantly and smiled at him in relief.

"How are you feeling?" she asked and he glared at her.

"How bad is it and how long was I out?" he questioned, letting his head fall back on the pillow.

"About three days. You have two broken ribs, two bruised ribs, internal bleeding, fractured arm, broken nose, a slight concussion and you needed a blood transfusion because you lost so much blood."

"Right," he sighed. "So how did the rest of the team take it?"

"Tony flew back with his suit and destroyed the base, Steve broke two hundred punching bags, Thor created a storm so big that two small towns in Michigan lost power and Bruce Hulked out and destroyed a small forest in Maine."

"So, not too bad, then."

"Hey, they were completely justified in their actions. No one gets to hurt our archer."

He smiled and let the morphine pull him back under. Much as he hated being babied, it was nice to be so protected and loved.


End file.
